Ineffabilis
by JealousOfTheMoon
Summary: LB/AU. 'If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.'


Warning: _this is AU. I wrote it about a month ago knowing that a certain person wasn't at the train station but unable to get a picture out of my head until I wrote it out, and then I put it in my 'to revise' (euphemism for 'to ignore') files to rot. Well, something came up about the word 'indescribable' recently and I knew I'd written it into a story but thought maybe I was going mad because I couldn't find it in any of my 'active' ones. Eventually I rooted out this one and I still liked its picture. I remain not wild about the AUness but I knew that if I canonicised it much of it would be lost. I have a bit of a plan for a much different canonical version, so if you like I'll write it out and add it as the second chapter. _

Written because_ it _had_ to have been difficult to stand on that train station with Narnia-bound rings in your pockets and not use them yourself. _

Definition: _'ineffabilis' - Latin: roughly, incapable of being expressed; 'ineffable' is synonymous to 'indescribable.' _

Disclaimer: _I do not own...blah blah blah. Also, the vast majority of the text in the description is a quote from 'Mere Christianity.' I obviously did not come up with that meself. _

Dedicated to **Argetlamgirl, **_whose 'To Die A Noble Death' made me think of this in the first place, and also to_ _any language-obsessed person. This story wants to thank _**Petraverd**_ especially, because without his little spiel on the word 'indescribable' it would probably have sat collecting dust for the rest of its days if left at the hands of its admittedly-not-the-brightest-cookie-in-the-tool-shed author._

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**Ineffabilis** – _by JotM_

She was milling about the dingy hallway in the train station looking for the water closet to wash her hands (probably the usual nasty, publick affair, and she's half-thankful she never found it) when she saw him. Do not mistake this for one of _those _ridiculous moments, for it wasn't anything like _that_. All she could see of him was a shaking figure holding his hands above his face so that his fingers tore at his hair while his palms covered his eyes.

"Peter?" she whispered and felt rather embarrassed when he stiffened. It felt like she'd walked in on something she shouldn't have, so she began rather uselessly explaining herself. "I was looking for the water closet, but this place is so rotten and smells of fish and I don't think I care to find it…." She trailed off, abruptly finishing with the only thing she really wanted to say: "Are you all right?"

"No," Peter began. "No, I don't think so. You see, I want…_something_…very badly," he said lowly, "Very badly indeed, but I can't have it. It's not that He said so in so many words, yet at the same time—he did. I'm so tired of this! It's in my pocket—it's _right there_—if I took it and used it, oh, I think it would be everything I want!"

"But it wouldn't be what _He_ wants," the girl stated, "and therefore you think you must hate yourself because for some reason you can't make yourself want what He wants."

Peter nodded frantically in agreement as he went on "It would feel so right, Lu!" his voice was definitely hoarse now. "It would be completely wrong—but it would feel so right!"

Lucy was quiet for a moment. "Some days, sir Peter," she responded gravely, "some days I feel sad—another, happy—another, disappointed—another, fulfilled. Do you not see? My feelings may change, yet each day—somehow—I am still myself with _my_ principles and _my_ convictions. If I cannot see past feelings to what _is_, how can I ever expect to see anything?

"I know," Peter said, releasing his hair with a sigh and opening his eyes. "But I can't seem to make it change what I _want_. How is it you can always want what He wants—and I am forever blundering about it in my own stupid way? I think—Lu, sometimes I think that He told me I couldn't go back because I wasn't _like_ Him enough."

"_Peter!"_ Lucy chastised. "How could you forget that I also can never go back? And I don't know what you mean about me always wanting the right thing! Do you think it hasn't occurred to me numerous times to rip my gloves off and put my hand in your pocket—to go back for one—just _one_— tiny glimpse? Do you think for that I have not told myself that surely just _one moment_ wouldn't hurt?! Or what about Edmund, back at the station, with the same thing in his pocket? Do you think he isn't fighting this too? Peter—you cannot hate yourself because you have been thrown onto a battleground and now must fight—you cannot think you must win without fighting. Indeed, we _both_ must fight. You already have begun to fight—you said yourself: it _is_ wrong. You truly believe that—and your feelings will adjust, I think, in time."

"Time," Peter said restlessly, running a shaking hand through his hair. "That's just it, Lu—how much time, and how do I know I shall be able to withstand so long this—this agony of longing?"

"It cannot be too long," she answered softly. "Aslan would not allow that."

"Lucy, this pull—this indescribable yearning, this desire to go back—the Professor told me once that it was a good thing, because it was the mark of a true Narnian. How can it be so good if it compels me to sin against Him?"

"A thing cannot be indescribable if one can describe it, even with the word 'indescribable'—and so this pain cannot be forever if it had a beginning. Come, dear brother, if you hold my hands and I hold yours, we will neither of us be able to yield to our temptation." She offered him one of her hands and he took it slowly, drawing himself away from the wall as he did so.

"Lady," said the man gravely, but he no longer shook and his eyes were clearer, "you are as wise as you are fair."

"Since you call me wise and fair, now I know your perspective to possess perfect clarity," she teased lightly. "I can have no more worries." He shook his head, laughing as he offered her his arm. Each clasped the other's hands as they wandered back to the platform.

Perhaps a bystander might have thought them lovers, embarking on a journey together or preparing for a long separation. But to a young man standing nearby, with a weight in his pocket and a battle raging in his mind, they were something greater and nobler: they were warriors, fighting the same fight side by side. As he looked upon them, he thought them more magnificent and valiant than ever before and took heart, knowing them all to be in the same battle and praying to Aslan he would end it before they grew weak.

Just out of sight, a train was about to round the bend…


End file.
